Starlight, Starbright
by DragonSapphire
Summary: Kyle and Cartman attempt star-gazing together. Cartman/Kyle


Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or its characters, and make no profit from writing this story. South Park & Characters are property of Matt Stone & Trey Parker.

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**Starlight, Starbright**

By DragonSapphire

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They were huddled together for warmth, that was all. But seriously...who ends up with a knee pressed between their thighs, their hands tangled in the other's hair, staring into the eyes of the person they hate most in the world?

They were supposed to be 'star-gazing,' or whatever it's called when two guys lay outside on an oddly clear, but still crispy cool night on an old sleeping bag, spending more time eye-gazing than actually giving a fuck about constellations, shooting stars, and rare alignments. What was historical value when rather one was being treated to the usual racial comments and, 'Haha, Jew, I can see Uranus from here' quips?

It was totally fucking weird murmuring occasional, insult-ridden comments with that knee between his thighs and his own long fingers spearing that perfect, slick, soft brown hair. Fucking fatass. Even when Kyle scrunched his fingers or pushed the neat strands in the opposite direction of growth, Eric's hair still fell as-neat-as-you please against his thick skull, seemingly undisturbed no matter how much Kyle willed it otherwise. Kyle wasn't even going to get into the mess of his own hair - Eric didn't have to say a word for his notorious Jewfro to lose any arguments/competitions between them without effort.

"I can feel your heartbeat through your dick, Jew," Cartman muttered, shifting his head a little within the clasp of Kyle's hands, sighing in mild annoyance that he was missing his star show for a fucking pair of viperish green eyes glaring into his own.

"You can _not_, Fatass," Kyle mumbled back, shifting his hips as Eric's arm tightened around his waist briefly.

God, he was turned on just laying like there with his very best antagonist, underneath the stars, and it wasn't like they were even screwing around or making their odd time together more than what it was. Fucking weird, though strangely comfortable. Kyle shifted and his hardness nestled into the fold of Eric's hip and stomach at his side, fucking that warm lovehandle, though more in his mind than in actual motions. He might as well have been laying still, except for the tiny shifting of his hips and the occasional sigh.

Eric's eyes returned to his, dark and annoyed, except they kept sliding down to Kyle's mouth with more and more frequency. And Kyle...he didn't lean in and take the initiative because it wasn't _like that_, but he licked his dry lips, pushed them out in a soft pucker, and licked them again just to keep Eric's attention on him.

Kyle was _so_ much better than astronomy, except it really was a nice night, and even though he'd been suspicious – and still was, but not so much, he'd still accepted Eric's suddenly-out-of-nowhere invitation for a camp out in his backyard. They were supposed to be watching for some kind of rare happenstance with the stars, or some shit that Kyle didn't even really care about, although Eric seemed to. Even had this super-amazing, high tech telescope kit that had yet to leave its stainless steel casing sitting uselessly at Eric's elbow on the grass.

Kyle hadn't even asked if the other guys were coming over too, sort of feeling a mild indifference towards the thought of being alone with Eric tonight when they didn't really have a valid reason or excuse to - they sorta kinda hated each other after all.

"...only once in twenty-five years. Are you fucking _listening_, Kahl?" Eric's irritated bark eased the redhead back into the line of conversation with the subtlety of a direct facial smack.

"Uh...no."

"_Jesus christ..."_

Cartman's gracious attempt at educating the Jew was shot down by the stark reminder of Kyle's advanced mental retardation, and the fucking nitwit was _still_ looking at _him_, like he was so goddamn interesting. Except it wasn't really interest in Kyle's eyes - they were too passively hostile, or maybe Cartman was just used to seeing them that way.

And then Kyle's arms were around his neck, the feeling of the other's steady erection against his fat hip a little more pronounced. The soft, warm breath the ginger kid panted over his lips hinted at intense hair-pulling, balls being thrust up against fish-pale thighs, and tongues throat-deep in each other's mouths, even if there was none of that horrifying gayness actually happening.

Cartman's blunt fingertips pressed into the curved crease at the base of Kyle's spine, in place of grabbing the Jew's ass and thrusting him harder against his body.

By some unspoken agreement they looked away, looked heavenward and really, for the first time that night, _saw_ the stars, even if in another universe they were having the best fucking sex of their lives.

In reality - cold, uncomfortable reality, there was a rock jammed against Cartman's remaining kidney while Kyle held back a sneeze intended to dislodge the sticky film of snot coating his sinuses from laying out in the chilly night air. The slick underside of the sleeping bag kept skating all over the dewy ground, getting their clothes somewhat damp in the process and creating all these irritating little pressure points from the erratic crumbles in the folded material.

Kyle's bright eyes had slid closed sometime during, and Cartman grit his teeth to fend off a surge of anger.

'_Look. Fucking _look_, Jewrat. You got all these pretty goddamn stars, and all you want to stare at is the back of your dumbass eyelids. Fucking douchebag, wastin' my time...'_

Cartman raged in his head, just like in their heads, imaginations - whatever - he was grasping Kyle's ginger ass and lowering him again and again over his hips, Kyle's pink mouth parting in a rapturous blend of pleasure/pain, surrendering to him completely.

Kyle's hands tightened in his hair, drawing a hiss from Eric, who didn't move or open his mouth to stop him. A quiet groan issued from that filthy Jew mouth before Kyle shuddered and listed against him, his skinny hips stilling. His arousal softened and tapered off, a little sticky at the tip, but he wouldn't need, like, a change of pants or anything, because it wasn't like he'd _come_ on Eric. Jesus christ, no.

Wordlessly they parted, Eric's knee sliding back from between Kyle's thighs like the retreat of a spent organ, and Kyle's fingers gleefully snagged on one tangle as he sifted his own fingers out of Eric's hair.

They rolled over to lay on their backs, full inches between them, but no part of them touching. They watched the sky - clear and empty save for those plain, pretty stars – accented by the uninspiring fragment of a swollen moon.

On another plane, Kyle and Eric's hands touched briefly and their fingers intertwined, the inky sky overhead slashed for a quick, breathtaking moment with the flare of a falling star, leaving the fading vision of a supremely satisfying afterglow behind their eyelids.

_~fin_


End file.
